Deliver Us
by JassyIsClassy
Summary: Delivered into the arms of the Alpha of an unusual pack as a young hatchling, Sol is oblivious to the struggles of his pack mates— other dinosaurs who face a life without promise or dignity, a life that could very well have been his own.


**Shortsnout biter = Dakotaraptor**

* * *

 **A New Dawn**

The nighttime was over. The shimmering stars, scattered across the sky like millions and millions of tiny holes, had faded into the warm blanket of orange and gold that now covered the vast expanse overlooking the hills. The bright circle slowly climbed upwards, going higher and higher into the sky while caressing the land below in a shower of warmth. Overhead, the migratory flyers sent out their call of cries and screeches as they glided across the skies. Nothing out of the ordinary— the bright circle rose and fell, as did the night circle. There was nothing going on there, aside from the delicate balance of life.

There was one such place where things stayed the same, where the inhabitants also relied on a rigid routine to gain some sense of balance. Along the slope of a mighty hill, the flat land divided by the river, a pack of shortsnout biters resided. From the untrained eye of a passerby, the plain of land might appear full of holes. But upon closer inspection, one could see that the tiny dots spread across the land were not holes, but dozens upon dozens of nests, lying out in the open. It was past these overcrowded clusters of slumbering dinosaurs, snoring as the humid summer air hovered above them, that a single biter had the sense to build his nest out of a hill; a bit like a snug and comfy burrow.

Within the shadows and the faint circles of light entering the opening of the burrow, a female's almond shaped eyes could be seen, their orange hue similar to that of a raging fire, as well as the dark markings that surrounded them. As she laid in the nest of leaves and moss, the female biter felt movement underneath her abdomen. Peering down and facing away from the light, she lifted her arm, covered in amber feathers. She tilted her head, purring curiously, and this was the first movement her otherwise motionless body made since the evening prior.

While retracting her wing, she revealed two furry chicks, one slightly bigger than the other. The chicks both shared their mother's eyes, as well as the light yellow feathers that covered her body. The one thing they didn't inherit from her, however, were the white feathers at the tips of their wings and tails. That, they got from someone else.

The two rambunctious little chicks shared an exchange of chirps as they used their tiny beak-like snouts to poke at a small ball of white fur curled up near their mother's brown tail feathers. Her eyes widening in alarm, the mother reached over and picked up her young chicks by the flap on their necks, carrying them a little ways away and placing them on the ground near her arms, where she could keep an eye on them.

"That's quite enough, you two. It's far too early for this," she scolded gently, her voice as smooth and sensual as the light breeze that would often kiss her face whenever she set foot outside.

She craned her head, redirecting her attention to the ball of feathers sitting by her tail. As she gave it a gentle nudge with her darkly colored snout, the ball unfurled to reveal a tiny chick, who couldn't have been more than a few days old.

Producing a feeble chirp, he barely managed to open his eyes, practically mirroring his mother's . The very instant light entered his retina, the chick decided that he hated it and curled back up into his ball, instinctively knowing he was safe under the watchful eye of his mother.

A low growl then erupted from outside, prompting the vigilant mother to tear her focus away from her chick and answer with a growl of her own. Another biter stuck his head through the cave, his hues of vibrant yellow meeting her own hues of fiery orange. He was covered in white feathers, with the exception of his wings and tail feathers, which were a dark, dark brown. It was evident where the chicks had inherited their pale, white feathers from.

The male biter ambled on inside, touching his snout to that of his mate's, purring softly before dropping a dead lizard in front of her as he assumed his position right by her side.

"I know it's not much," he said apologetically, obviously wishing his attempt at hunting hadn't been such a misfire, "But I'm afraid I couldn't go very far…Alpha has sentries all over the damn place. Still, I _did_ try...and I hope it'll suffice."

"I know, Geb. You don't need to justify yourself to me." She picked the unmoving lizard, wedging the tail in between her claws as she chomped it's head off, "You know that, don't you?"

A sigh rolled off of Geb's tongue as he leaned against his mate, taking a moment to gently scratch his only daughter's head with his claw. "I do know that, Mahat. I just...I wish I could do more. You and our children deserve the very best. It's a shame that I can't give it to you."

"You've already done more than enough, Geb," Mahat coaxed, tossing the decapitated lizard onto the earth, watching amusedly as her children hardly hesitated to devour it, "Everyday you wake up at some unfathomable hour of the morning to go and find some food for me and the children. You then barely get any rest before you go out and hunt some more to satisfy our Alpha. Believe me, everything you do will always be enough." Mahat peered into his eyes wearing a hopeful smile, that same hopeful that made Geb fall in love with her in the first place.

As she took their youngest child into her arms, Geb seemed to be stuck inside a trance of intense and deep thought. His face wrinkled with worry, he looked out towards the hills that seemed to obstruct his view of anything and everything that lay beyond them. "But it doesn't _feel_ like enough. I think I just need to—"

" _Geb_ ," Mahat said firmly, cutting him off midway. She tilted her head, looking up at him. "What you _need_ is to stop doubting yourself. You do everything you can to provide for us and make sure we're always taken care of— even if it's at your own expense— and that's already more than enough for me."

"But, Mahat—"

"You have our backs, and we have yours," she continued while ignoring his protests, "You don't _need_ anything else, my love. Besides..." she pointed her snout towards their son, sleeping in her arms, "He's rather handsome, don't you think so?"

Resting his head on her shoulder, Geb stared bemusedly into his son's equally confused eyes. He wrinkled both of his brows, sampling a smell of the fuzzy chick. He wasn't exactly smitten with his son; he'd hardly even gotten time to know him. He and Mahat were always so preoccupied with keeping their children safe from harm, ever since Alpha sent out the order to snatch the newborns from their homes and throw them into the river in a desperate attempt to stop overpopulation. In response to his mate's inquiry, however, he had to confess that he thought his son was absolutely hideous. He looked less like a dinosaur, and more like a ball of fuzz.

"...Sure, love," he replied after a long hesitation which made it clear he was thinking very hard about his answer, "I _suppose_ he's not that bad looking for a hatchling...I'm just glad he has your eyes or else he'd be absolutely repulsive."

"Geb!" Mahat whirled around to face him, trying her very best to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape, "Don't be so mean. You'll hurt his feelings."

"I'm only saying the truth," reasoned Geb, coming to his own defense as he shrugged his shoulders. "Neph and Shaw were absolutely hideous too, but it wasn't as noticeable because they looked so much like you."

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself," Mahat crooned, purring under her breath while giving his chin a gentle and loving nuzzle, "You're the most handsome biter I know."

"You're just saying that because you're my mate," Geb rebuffed flatly.

"Well, yes, that may be true, but really now— I don't understand why appearance matters so much to you. I love you because of who you are. You know that." She looked at him, frowning when he simply averted his eyes. Then, she too looked away, her eyes tracing the movements of her offspring as they curled up beside each other. Her gaze bounced off of Geb. "I know you're convinced that you're unpleasant to look at, and while I don't agree, I think that's good. If you are hideous, then when someone loves you, you know they really love you for who you are—" she paused to lock eyes with him, "Just like I do."

Geb was initially a little confused at first, but as she spoke to him, his heart began to lift. Just hearing the way she spoke to him, so passionately and honestly, it made him want to be better. For her. He glanced down at his son, tickling his chin. As he played with him, Geb managed to catch a glimpse of his mate looking rather dejected. He knew why.

"You know they're going to come for him, too," he told her, massaging her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, "Giving him up is what's best for him and us."

"I know," Mahat mouthed in response, "I just don't like thinking about it. I've already grown to love him so..."

"It will be alright," Geb purred, "We'll get through it together. You said it yourself— we don't need anything else."

Mahat chuckled to herself, highly amused by having her own words turned around and used on her.

The bright circle was now fully in the sky, having given birth to a new dawn. With the start of the new day came the same old routine, in the same old order. Geb had grown so accustomed to this way of life that over time, it became his way of keeping track of time. As he felt the warmth of the bright circle hit his chest, he knew what time it was.

He scrambled to his feet, just in time to hear the beckoning roar of the head hunter, summoning his subordinates. "Well," he sighed, "I should get going before he throws a hissy fit."

Mahat nodded in affirmation, understanding that he had duties to perform, even if she would have preferred him to stay inside with her and the children.

Geb crouched down, balancing himself on the balls of his feet. He slanted forward, allowing the tips of their snouts to touch. "Promise me you'll stay safe," he whispered to her. This was also part of his routine, a part that he actually enjoyed.

"I promise," Mahat replied back as she usually did, watching with a heavy heart as he pulled away. "...I love you."

Geb turned to look at her as he stood in front of the burrow's entrance, the light from outside shining behind him. "I love you too," he said, offering a handsome grin before running down the slope, joining the rest of the miserable lot who were burdened with the duty of hunting so early, and not even for themselves.

Mahat held her son tightly as she watched her mate depart, plagued by the ever present fear that he might not return. However, she knew as she tucked her son safely beneath her feathers this was not the time to pay heed to that nagging little voice inside of her head. She had bigger things to worry about— like how she was going to ensure her son would live a good life without having to depart from him. Then, a tiny and groggy voice caught her attention.

"Mm...Mama...?"

Mahat shifted her weight towards her daughter Neph, who was lying next to her brother. Mahat raised a brow, tilting her chin, as if urging her to continue. "What is it, Neph?"

"Are those scary biters going to come back here? Are they going to take us away?"

"No, love," Mahat answered, gently tracing her daughter's jawline with her claw. She hadn't lied; neither Neph nor Shaw would be taken away, since they were no longer newborns.

Neph didn't seem satisfied with the answer that she was given, and Mahat noticed as much. "Don't worry about it," Mahat insisted, "Go back to sleep. Everything will be alright."

Neph heeded her mother's words and turned around, slipping back into sleep. Mahat lovingly stroked her head, repeating what she had told her daughter to herself, repeating it like a mantra.

"Everything _will_ be alright."

* * *

It was midday when she awoke. As much as she loathed it, there wasn't much else to do, given how constricting the laws of her pack were. If only she could leave. If she and her family were to somehow miraculously escape, that would be more than enough. Mahat wouldn't bear any qualms even if they didn't join another pack, so long as they were far, far away from this dreadful place.

Slowly, she began to stir, the weight of her body pushing against the leaves and blades of grass and producing a soft rustling sound. Her eyes steadily fluttered open, that peaceful half conscious doze that glided slowly upwards into wakefulness barely beginning to wear off—

" _NO_! _No, no, please— leave him_! _YOU LEAVE HIM_!"

Mahat was suddenly wide awake, recognizing the panicked screams that filled the air. She lifted her head, as did her children, who were barely beginning to wake. She scanned the plain in front of her, unable to tear her eyes away from the horrific sight of a helpless mother being thrashed to the ground as a strongly built shortsnout biter marched over to her nest and took her newborn hatchling.

"They're here," Neph whispered, cowering behind her mother's leg, "They're going to take him away..."

Mahat tilted her chin slightly, looking down at her daughter. She was right; they would be coming for her son— but she wasn't going to admit defeat so easily. Her woeful expression turned into one of resolute determination as she took Neph and Shaw into her arms, throwing them onto her back.

"No, they won't," she said firmly as she lifted her son by the flap of his neck. Looking back one more time, Mahat grimaced as she scampered towards the rear entrance of the burrow, forcing herself through the dark and seemingly never ending tunnel. Her talons crunched and sifted against the soil as she drew closer and closer to the bright light at the very end. Not much farther. Just a little bit more...

Mahat stepped out into the light, bombarded by a wave of searing heat that made her feel uncomfortably warm. Her heart thumping rapidly against her chest didn't quite help matters either. Her eyes roamed from one child to the other, making sure they were all accounted for. The last thing that she wanted was for one of them to get lost in the frenzy of dinosaurs rushing about from place to place.

She glanced towards the left, and then towards the right. Once she decided the coast was clear, Mahat rushed down the slope, her children holding onto her for dear life. She did not stop, nor did she look back, and continued making a mad dash for the river.

Once she could see the tall, feathery reeds sprouting upwards by the grassy riverbank, she began to slow down. She looked behind her, making sure she hadn't been followed. Mahat breathed a sigh of relief, but her heart still raced.

The river's appearance was deceiving, stretching as long as the neck of the tallest longneck, and opening as wide as a mountain is high. Shoals of tiny silver swimmers could be seen gliding across the shimmering green water, only occasionally breaching the surface.

Her son began to fuss and wriggle around as he was being held between his mother's teeth, somehow sensing the danger. Mahat was not surprised; children could be surprisingly inquisitive. Instead of shushing him, she offered a sympathetic smile and dropped him, catching him in the palm of both her hands. His huge orange eyes looked back at her, glistening wet tear trails on his cheeks. She sat down on her haunches, pressing their foreheads together.

"My son," she began, ashamed that she hadn't even thought of a name for him, "Please don't cry. And please, please, _please_ forgive me for doing this. I never wanted to, believe me, but this is the most I can do— If nothing else, I can at least give you a good life..." she sniffled, withholding tears, "Even if I may never get to be a part of it. I hope you'll grow up with grace and dignity, and that you'll never have to bear the hardships that your father and I had to bear the burden of, and that you'll always be free to speak your mind. Still, I want to ask one thing of you— Just one thing—" inhaling sharply, she closed her eyes and allowed the tears to fall the moment she opened them, "I ask that one day, when you're all grown up, that you come and deliver _us_ , just like we will deliver you. That's all I ask. Don't forget us. Don't forget me. Please, remember me, remember where you came from, so that I'll be with you when you dream."

Mahat then gave him one last loving nuzzle, hoping against hope that it would be enough to remind of how much she loved him in the short time they'd spent together. Subsequently rising to her feet, she resumed carrying him in her mouth and waded into the river, resisting against the roaring current which threatened to carry her downstream. Using every single ounce of willpower in her body, she swam forward with all of her might, eventually emerging on the opposite side, with all three of her children.

As she shook herself dry, she looked over a nearby bush, where she could spot Alpha's mate playing with her son in a small and shallow pond flowing with moss. Mahat hurried over to the bush, using it to conceal herself as she helped Neph and Shaw to the ground.

"Stay here, children," she warned, her voice as silent as the quietest drop of water while transferring her son to the palm of her hand. She crouched down, poking her arm through the bush and dropping him onto the grass.

The tiny chick cried out in confusion, waddling over to the bush as he chirped for his mother. But as much as it pained her, Mahat could not take him back. She urged him forward with her hand, unintentionally causing him to trip over his own two feet. He squeaked in pain, grabbing the attention of Alpha's mate.

The very second that Mahat sensed the other's footsteps, she grabbed Shaw and ran off, using her tail to push her daughter along. Neph began to run with her mother and brother, but stopped to see what the female biter's next course of action would be.

* * *

Alpha's mate, a tall and slender biter named Tara, slowly approached the hatchling, whose emotional injury was worse than any physical injury he might have sustained during his fall.

Tara raised an eyebrow, her young son awkwardly trailing behind her. She lowered her head, sniffing the hatchling all over. Her hazel eyes softened considerably. "Poor dear," she cooed, "You're scared to death." She began to extend her hand, but the hatchling shriveled away from her. Tara didn't fault him for it, as shown when she smiled kindly. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you— it's alright, little one." She slowly ran her finger over his head, establishing that she meant no harm. He seemed to get the memo, for he smiled and cooed in response. "There," she chimed, scooping him up into her hands and nuzzling him, just as his own mother did to him minutes before, "Isn't that better? Oh, you're so small...and absolutely precious."

Neph smiled and gave a sigh of relief, letting go of the reeds she was unwittingly gripping with her fingers. "Stay safe, baby brother," she said in a voice a little higher than a whisper as she watched Tara walk away, absolutely smitten with the hatchling she cupped in her hands, "Please don't forget about us." Then, she ran to catch up with the rest of her family.

* * *

As Mahat led her two remaining children back home, she spoke to them in a tone that conveyed a sense of urgency.

"If anything happens, I want you two to run straight home," she commanded, "Don't go out until your father returns."

Both Shaw and Neph were confused by the reasoning behind their mother's statement, but agreed to do what she asked, nonetheless.

"Mahat," a low voice snarled, "There you are. I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

Mahat couldn't help but scrunch and wrinkle her face. She thought she smelled something disgusting curled up in her path. Standing before her was the lead sentry. Hawthorn. She hated him, and everything about him— the way he stood like he was someone to be respected, and how his blazing green eyes looked as if they were mocking her when he spoke to her. Mahat only recognized these things about him simply because she couldn't find it in her to care about whatever nonsense he was spouting.

Her mouth curved into a tight frown as she furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you want, Hawthorn?"

"That's 'sir' to you," Hawthorn barked, "And I was just wondering...the sentries and I found your home empty today during the search. And I _know_ you and Geb have a newborn son."

Mahat's frown grew tighter. "What are you getting at?"

Hawthorn immediately dropped whatever games he was playing, and stomped his foot against the grass. "Where is he? That's what I'm getting at. And don't you dare lie to me. Or else—"

Mahat sensed him approaching Neph and Shaw, and moved protectively in front of them. "Don't even think about it." She heaved a sigh, her eyes defeated. "I promise I'll give you the information you want."

"Mom," Neph tugged on her mother's tail feathers, "What are you doing—"

"Shh," Mahat silenced her, nudging both her and her brother away from the scene, "Go inside, and wait for your father. Don't worry— I'll handle this." She flashed her famous reassuring smile, the smile that made it feel like everything would be alright, even if it didn't seem like it would be.

Neph and Shaw gazed at their mother with uncertainty, exchanging glances with each other before they took off towards home. Mahat smiled in relief, although it fell rather quickly.

She suddenly felt herself being grabbed by the arm. She let out a surprised yelp, suddenly finding herself facing Hawthorn, who had a tight and deadly grip on her wrist.

"Where are you hiding him?" Hawthorn pressed, gritting his teeth.

Mahat held her tongue, her furious eyes locked on Hawthorn, even as he squeezed the life out of her wrist.

"TELL ME!" He flung her backwards, not even flicking at the sound of the back of her head hitting a rock. "I can't believe you could be so _selfish_! Whether you agree with it or not, this is all for the greater good of the pack! By not telling me where your son is, you risk the futures of everyone here! And for what, your own selfish desires?"

Mahat scowled ferociously at him, refusing to falter even as her head throbbed from the blunt trauma. "You're full of shit," she rasped, baring her teeth, "If you actually think that anyone actually _believes_ the shit that leaves your foul mouth, you're just as foolish as the ideas you come up with."

That was a mistake. That was a mistake, and she knew it. She knew that she slipped up, and badly. If there was one unspoken rule, it was that the higher ups had total control. They had the power to end a pack member's life if they personally felt them to be a threat— even if they weren't actually dangerous.

A strangled noise escaped from Hawthorn's throat as his pupils turned to narrow, almost invisible slits. Without even a hint of hesitation, he leapt forward, slamming his sickle claw against her throat, forcing it through her scales and into her tissue.

Mahat let out an audible choking sound, squawking as she found herself being pushed against the grass. The feeling of his claw piercing her flesh was akin to that of being burned by an unrelenting flame. Still choking for breath, she grew bleary eyed as her sclera began to redden, and the tips of her fingers gained a purplish tinge.

"You snuck off while you were not permitted and didn't even tell anyone," Hawthorn said while pressing his claw further into Mahat's throat, his voice eerily calm, "And as you know…the penalty for such insubordination is death."

Shaw happened to turn around at this exact moment, just in time to see his mother being slammed against the ground, specks of dirt flying everywhere as she fought against Hawthorn, who was inarguably the stronger one out of the two. He began to cry out for his mother, but was stopped by his older sister, who silenced him with a hand over his mouth before carrying him off into the safety of their home.

"Why is nobody stopping him," Shaw gasped as soon as he was inside and in his sister's arms, "Neph, please stop him— _please_ —" he sobbed quietly as he buried his face in Neph's chest.

Neph enveloped him in a protective embrace, shielding him from the sight of the horror unfolding outside. Alas, she was not able to drown out the sounds that accompanied it.

* * *

Blissfully unaware of the whole fiasco happening on the other side of the river, Tara waded in the pond, bathing her son while holding a fuzzy white hatchling in one arm. Still, it wasn't as if she could do anything about what was happening just across from her. Alpha and the sentries were the only ones with any true power.

The water pooled from her hands and onto her son, washing him of the dirt that covered his body. She'd been here since early morning, and her efforts seemed to have paid off. Pleased with her work, Tara stepped out, the water dripping from her body and onto the grass. She peered at the feathered bundle in her arms. She was not stupid. She knew it would be obvious that this was not her own child. However, no one else had to know that.

She met the gaze of two other female biters who helped look after her son, but at the current moment, looked rather concerned. They worried that she might get in trouble for this, or worse, Alpha might not even accept the new child. Tara was well aware of these possibilities, however. Her eyes hardened as she cast them a look that swore them to secrecy, promising that this would remain between them, and between her and the alpha. When the two female biters dipped their heads in affirmation, Tara flashed a pleased smile and resumed sauntering off to find her mate. Her son hobbled at her feet, tugging at her tail feathers to get her attention.

"Mama," he cooed, looking expectantly up at her.

"Come, Hapi," Tara said to her son, briefly glancing down at him, "We will show Alpha your new baby brother." She paused to poke the hatchling's nose, "...Sol."

* * *

The bright circle was beginning to retire, as was Geb, who was making his way home after what had been a long, long day of hunting. He hated it. He hated having to go do far, only to find food for Alpha's family. He was frustrated by the position he found himself in, but at the very least, he had his family to come home to. He couldn't wait to be engulfed by his mate's loving embrace, and to hear the cheers of his son and daughter who had been waiting all day for their father to arrive.

Just the thought of it made Geb smile to himself, lifting his spirits in the process. It was certainly taxing on his body to do nothing but hunt all day, but in the end, it was all worth it. As long as his family was safe and taken care of, he'd push on, even if it made him absolutely miserable.

As he passed the nests of his pack mates, he could tell that the sentries had paid them a visit. Everyone was either in the process crying their eyes out, or were all cried out and just looked...dead. Almost lifeless. It was no way to live, especially as a pack that was supposed to work with each other instead of against, but Geb was powerless to change it.

He continued on. For some reason, the closer his home drew, the worse he felt. He had a panic in his chest, a premonition of some sort. Something had happened something bad. Of course, bad things happened in the pack everyday, but this feeling hit particularly close to home. It was as if...something had happened to someone _he_ cared about.

He decided to hurry home as fast as possible so he could relieve himself of his fears. Even as he darted up the slope towards the burrow he'd dug, he couldn't shake the feeling that continued to eat away at him until he arrived at the entrance.

Geb came to a halt, his heart thumping so loudly he could practically hear it. He sounded his growl, waiting with anticipation and nerve wracking anxiety as he listened for his mate's response. It never came.

His mind immediately went a million different places, but he shook his head and brought himself back to reality. He had to stop overthinking this. There was no way anything like that could happen to him. He'd heard about it happening to others, but it never happened to him, and that wouldn't change.

Geb wandered inside to find a nearly empty burrow. The spot where his mate sat was vacant, but the lump was still there, as well as her familiar, unmistakable smell. After looking around some more, he discovered that his newborn son was gone too. The only occupants of the nest were his children, who sat with their backs turned towards him. Neph was sitting up while Shaw lay down, clearly pretending to be asleep.

Something happened. Something's wrong, something is very wrong— he ignored his instinct, and looked towards his daughter. He raised an eyebrow, somewhat confused. His mind was in a fog, that was for certain. "Neph...? Where's your mother?"

Neph stiffened. She couldn't give him a verbal answer. She couldn't even face him. All she could do was shake her head, indicating that whatever answer he was hoping for, whatever happy lie he wanted to be told, just wasn't so.

Oh, that hurt. That hurt so much he didn't even feel the pain at first. He stood there a few seconds, in complete shock before his knees gave way, and he screamed like never before, following a ragged gasp of panic. The pain hit him all at once, fueling his agonized screams. It had happened to him, and as the bright circle's light died down, so did the only light in his life.

* * *

 **Wow, I sure had a field day with this one. I got inspired to write this about a month ago when I was rewatching The Prince of Egypt (which is an amazing movie, 11/10 would recommend), so this is based around the opening of the movie.  
**

 **I'm probably going to continue this at some point, depending on how well it's received. I wrote this for the August prompt, simply because I had more motivation for that particular prompt. :p Now that I got this out of the way though, I'll hopefully be able to continue working on the new chapter of Across The Seasons, which I'm making good progress with. I hope you guys enjoy reading and have a nice week!**


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